The Return of Jim
by RacheLynne
Summary: Jim from IT has returned, and he is more determined than ever to hurt Sherlock Holmes however he can. But who else will have to suffer for it?
1. Chapter 1: The Plan

As clever as he was, of course Sherlock Holmes was not the only man in the world of such intelligence. There was one other man to rival him – James Moriarty. And just as Sherlock faked his suicide, so did his nemesis.

How did Jim do it? Well, to tell you would just ruin the fun, wouldn't it? No, we'll leave that up to your imagination to decide. But James was every bit as alive as Sherlock, and every bit as determined. He wasn't nearly done with his little game yet, and why on earth would he choose to die just as things were starting to get fun? No, no, Jim from IT was back and better than ever – something as silly as one little bullet wasn't going to stop him.

Now the real question was how to torture his favorite little puppet next. He was done with the dance – all he wanted now was to inflict pain. Jim had no real motive other than his boredom, but for him boredom was powerful enough. Watching Sherlock suffer was Jim's favorite form of entertainment, and he couldn't wait for the next "episode" to begin.

Suddenly, the brilliant idea occurred to him. Sherlock cared for very few people – there were only about five that would actually affect him. But they were all ordinary people, and Jim could easily take them – Molly, John, Greg, Mycroft, and Mrs. Hudson – and he knew without a doubt that Sherlock would do whatever he was asked to get them back.

Jim grinned to himself for developing such a brilliant plan, and eventually the grin turned into a laugh. A cold, high cackle that could almost be considered a singsong. A minor melody for Jim to hear, and Jim alone.


	2. Chapter 2: John Disappears

John, of course, would be the first to go, since he clearly meant the most to Sherlock. Though he was slightly more intelligent than most, the genius' pet would still be relatively easy to fool. The most difficult part would be getting him out from under Sherlock's nose – they were _always_ together, and Jim needed to get John alone. He paced the dimly lit room with his hands in the pockets of his suit pants, muttering to himself. As it always did for Jim, the mutter grew into a shout – "Think, think, think, think, _THINK!"_

And suddenly, it occurred to him. Although John the ever-loyal puppy dog usually followed Sherlock everywhere, there was one thing they did separately – sleeping. As far as Jim knew, Sherlock and John slept in separate bedrooms (though knowing that pair, it could've changed). Although it was well known to Jim that Sherlock didn't sleep much, he had to do it sometimes. Jim would make sure the detective had no new cases and was at as much peace as he could be, and even then he'd be cautious. By 3:00 AM the man would most likely be asleep, and it was hardly difficult for Jim to stay awake at long for the purpose of such a fun little game.

* * *

It wasn't long before the night came. Since Moriarty had "died," the amount of cases that came to Sherlock had decreased significantly, even after the consulting detective himself revealed that he was alive. This fact alone had been enough to sustain Jim for a while – the slow descent into something resembling madness caused by the almost constant boredom had been sufficiently amusing. But now it was getting dull, and Jim needed something new. So at 3:00 AM he noiselessly entered the apartment and John's room. He gagged the doctor first so even if he woke, he couldn't scream. This was lucky because John almost immediately regained consciousness – he attempted to shout but it was muffled, and certainly not loud enough to wake somebody across the flat. Soon he had the man bound and draped over his shoulder. He was out of the flat less than five minutes after getting there and back to the house where he was staying ten minutes after that.

Upon arriving, Jim brought John to a dimly lit room with an army cot off in the corner. "Bet you've missed these," he remarked in his usual singsong tone as he tossed the man down. After making sure John was very securely locked into the room, Jim untied him with a grin.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" John asked immediately, his voice filled to the brim with venom. "You're supposed to be dead!"

"So was Sherlock," Jim reminded his prisoner with a shrug. "Surprise!"

"And why have you taken me instead of him?" John questioned.

Jim shrugged. "It'd be no fun if I took him. It's more fun to watch him suffer and struggle. Have the people he cares about disappear under his nose and watch him try to find them. It's all a delightful game, John Watson, and you know how much I simply _love _a good game."

And after a shudder and a look of sheer horror and disgust, John Watson completely blacked out.

* * *

_**A/N: **__Thank you so much to anyone who reviewed, followed, or favorited. That's really why I write - so if you want me to continue, keep them coming! Sorry for the delay and the short chapters - a bit of writer's block._


	3. Chapter 3: Sherlock's Newest Case

"John, did you get around to buying more milk?" Sherlock asked as soon as he entered the living room. He didn't actually look around for his flatmate – John was always there and usually awake before him, so why would he? Lying down on the couch and growing impatient with the lack of response, Sherlock spoke again. "We're out, you know, we've been out for two days now. Honestly, I may be forced to go get it myself."

The consulting detective had added this last bit as a test – he knew if John was up he would give a quick and sarcastic answer to this, perhaps something like "Well that'd be a first, wouldn't it?" However, no one spoke. Unsurprised by this but made somewhat nervous, Sherlock sprang up from the couch and crossed the room to get his phone. Quickly he sent a text to John – "Where are you? Get more milk while you're out. –SH."

The next step was to run to the stairs and call down them to his landlady. "Mrs. Hudson, have you seen John this morning?" After all, his roommate could've just gone out for a bite of breakfast.

"No, he hasn't gone out today. Isn't he upstairs with you?" Mrs. Hudson replied.

"Of course not, why would I ask if he were?" Sherlock asked irritably. As he hadn't gotten a reply to his text yet, he now pulled on his scarf and overcoat. "I'm going out, Mrs. Hudson, have tea ready when I get back if you don't mind," he called over his shoulder as he ran out the door. He had about seven ideas as to what could've happened so far, and he was out to narrow it down to one.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Sorry about the pathetic length and all the delays! I'm in a musical this weekend so it's been pretty hectic. I have band camp starting Sunday and going until Saturday, but after that I'll have much more time to write for you and maybe I'll do some longer and better chapters. As always, any and all reviews are very much appreciated because they not only encourage me to keep writing, but I am more than happy to keep in mind any tips about writing style or even what you would like to see next in the story. So please, leave any questions, comments, or concerns in the reviews and I love you beautiful people, thank you!_


	4. Chapter 4: Jim Explains

"You won't be the only one for long," Jim assured John lazily, taking a large bite of his apple and spitting the seeds in Watson's general direction. "There are others I plan on bringing in."

"Like who?" John asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at the well-dressed man sitting across from him. Other than the chairs they were sitting in (or were tied to in John's case), the room was utterly empty. The lighting was dim and there were no windows, so John had no way of knowing where he was. A faint sound of dripping water could be heard somewhere – it came about every two seconds and was far enough away to hint that the room was a large one.

"That pathologist, the detective, the landlady, his brother," Jim answered, ticking the people off on his fingers. He wouldn't use their real names – he didn't respect them enough. "That should be sufficient. The man doesn't care about anybody else anyway. There's no one else we could take that would affect him."

John tensed at the word "we." "There is no _we_," he spat, squirming in the chair he was bound to. "I'm not working with you on this. It's sick and twisted and… and… and do you even have a motive?"

Jim shrugged. "Bored. I'm bored, John. You've lived with Sherlock long enough that you know what people like he and I are capable of when we get bored."

John couldn't help but shudder at this simply because it was true. He'd seen Sherlock shout at the TV or shoot the wall more times than he could count out of sheer boredom, but he knew that wasn't the worst of it. He had also watched Moriarty himself play with people's lives, coming within seconds of blowing them up or killing them just for fun. "But why Sherlock?" he asked desperately.

"Because he's a _challenge_!" Jim shouted at his hostage. "He's almost like me, except that he enjoys some of you ordinary people. Since you're his weakness, you're what I use. It's simple, really. Anyone with a brain could figure it out."

But John still didn't understand. John would never understand. Because although anyone with a brain could figure it out, anyone with a heart could see it was wrong.

* * *

_**A/N: **__Thanks again for reading and for putting up with my hectic schedule! I'm home from band camp so I can write more, which is awesome. I tried to write a slightly longer chapter this time but it's still pretty short, so I appreciate everyone who enjoys the story even with short chapters and cliche chapter endings. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated and anything and everything will at the very least be taken into consideration._


	5. Chapter 5: Molly Hooper

The next victim would be the pathologist. That Molly Hooper girl, the one that was always watching Sherlock from the corner of her eye and helping him out of all the sticky situations he got himself into. Sherlock seemed to rely on her more than he really cared about her, but she was still definitely important enough to him to be worth taking.

It would be much easier to kidnap her, too, than it had been to take John. She was so innocent, so naïve, and once upon a time she had actually trusted Jim – she'd been on three dates with him, before she broke things off. And there was the other reason for kidnapping her – the ulterior motive that kept Jim from taking someone like Mrs. Hudson or Lestrade that would probably cause Sherlock from distress just yet. He wanted to have a pretty young thing like Molly around, and there were simply no others worth taking.

* * *

It wasn't hard to get Molly to trust him again. Jim was no stranger to disguise, so he arrived at Bart's for the first day of his "new job" looking like an entirely different man. He just so happened to walk by the mortuary on his way to his supposed office, and stuck his head in to see none other than Molly Hooper standing inside.

"Um, excuse me, miss," he began in a soft, uncertain voice that was hopefully very much unlike his own. "I-It's my first day here, and I was wondering if you could help me find… um…" - he looked at the paper in his hand – "The nursery wing."

Looking up, Molly smiled at the man. "Of course, let me show you." She exited the room and began to lead the way, and they chatted the whole walk there. He introduced himself by a new name – Frank – and on the whole she seemed to rather like him.

When they finally arrived, Jim gave Molly a shy kind of smile and invited her to dinner with him that evening. She, of course, accepted gladly and asked him to pick her up at seven. He more than willingly agreed, and with that she headed back to her own work.

* * *

That evening when Jim arrived in front of Molly's flat, she was already standing on the stairs outside and waiting for him. She smiled as she got into the passenger's seat, but the smile quickly faded when she realized they weren't going to the restaurant that he'd said they were.

"Frank, where exactly are you taking me?" Molly asked nervously.

Jim couldn't help but laugh at this. "Really, Molly, I'm surprised you haven't recognized me – we went out three times, after all. I met your cats. We watched _Glee_."

Molly's perfectly made up face went ghostly white. "I… Jim?"

Grinning, Jim nodded as the car pulled up to the house where he'd been staying. "Good to see you finally caught on," he said before knocking her out and carrying her inside.

* * *

_**A/N:** As usual, I really hope you're enjoying! Reviews are better than sex. Thanks once more to everyone who's followed, favorited, and especially reviewed! I might have a bit of Potterlock coming up that's been floating around in my mind along with a bit of Marauders because I positively love them, so if that's your thing, make sure to check my profile for them!_


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